Chapter 6

  Inn room and Uexpected Visitors

  She drops the coins into my palm, the clink of metal oddly satisfying. A quick glance tells you it’s twenty-five copper pieces—enough for a bed, a hot meal, and maybe a drink if you’re careful.

  "Guess we’re even now," you say, tucking the money safely into your pocket. "But… if you ever find yourself short-staffed again, maybe I’ll wander by."

  Hesta snorts, shaking her head as she turns back toward the kitchen. "You do that, lux. Just don’t expect double pay every time."

  Tolan pushes off the doorway, offering a half-smile. "You’re alright. If you’re ever looking for someone who knows the city… I might know a guy."

  "I’ll keep that in mind," you reply, stepping toward the door. The warm smell of bread trails after you as you step back into the street, the coins in your pocket a small but real proof you can earn your way here if you need to.*

  The market hum greets you again, full of noise, motion, and possibilities—both good and bad.

  With the coins jingling lightly in my pocket, i weave my way back through the market, following the directions Jack gave me earlier. The bustle of Springvale thins slightly as the streets widen, the scent of fresh bread giving way to the faint aroma of roasting meat and the distant sound of a lute being played.

  The Fountain Square opens before me—a wide, sunlit space with a tall marble fountain at its heart. The water glitters as it arcs and splashes, catching the light like liquid silver. Merchants with small carts line the edges, selling roasted nuts, trinkets, and cups of something that smells spiced and sweet.

  Across the square, tucked between a cooper’s shop and a narrow alley, you spot the sign for The Lantern’s Rest—a painted wooden board depicting a glowing lantern hanging from a shepherd’s hook. The building itself is two stories, with warm yellow plaster and dark timber beams, the kind of place that feels inviting without being flashy.

  When i step inside, the air is warm and smells faintly of wood smoke and stewing vegetables. A stout, red-haired man behind the counter glances up from polishing a mug, his eyes narrowing slightly at your clothes before flicking toward your pocket where the faint clink of coins gave you away.

  "Looking for a room, are you?" he asks, voice rough but not unkind.

  "Yeah," i say, stepping up to the counter. "One night for now. Just need a place to rest."

  The innkeeper eyes you for a beat longer, then names a price—eight copper. I count the coins into his hand, the metal clinking against the worn wood of the counter. He bites one (for no reason other than habit, you suspect), then sweeps them into a small drawer.

  "Ground floor, room three," he says, pulling a brass key from a hook behind him. "Got a window facing the side alley. Stays cooler in the summer, but don’t go leaning out at night unless you fancy getting your head taken off by drunks staggering home."

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  You take the key, the brass warm from his hand, and follow the narrow hallway off the main room. My door’s only a short walk down—a sturdy wooden panel with a simple latch. Inside, the space is modest: a single bed with a quilt, a small writing desk, a clay water jug, and that promised window. The alley beyond is quiet for now, shadows stretching long in the fading light.

  I set my watch and knife on the desk, the weight of the day settling in. For the first time since waking in Evermore, i've got a door to close between me and the world.

  The room is dark, save for the faint silver light of the moon filtering through the window. Im half-asleep, drifting in that hazy space between dream and waking, when a soft, deliberate tap breaks the stillness.

  My eyes snap open. I lie there for a moment, heart beating a little faster, listening. Then it comes again—tap… tap… tap… faint, but unmistakable.

  I push myself up, moving quietly toward the window. The alley beyond is shrouded in shadow, the faint smell of damp stone drifting through the cracks. At first, i see nothing… and then two glowing amber eyes appear in the darkness, fixed directly on me.

  They blink once, slow and deliberate, and the shape around them resolves—slender, familiar. The demi-human catgirl from the woods, her ears twitching slightly, her tattered clothes catching the moonlight. She doesn’t move closer, but her tail sways slowly behind her, like she’s sizing me up all over again.

  I stay perfectly still, my hand hovering near the latch but not touching it. The last time i approached her, she’d bolted without a word—and im not about to make the same mistake twice.

  The catgirl tilts her head slightly, her amber eyes glinting in the moonlight. Her ears flick toward the faint noise of a wagon somewhere far off, but her gaze never leaves you. For a moment, neither of us moves, the night between us stretched taut and silent.

  Then, slowly, she crouches near the base of the wall below my window, still in the shadows. Her tail wraps loosely around her legs as she watches me, cautious but… not hostile.

  A small flicker of curiosity stirs in her expression, barely visible, before she glances toward the far end of the alley—checking for something, or someone. When she looks back, her ears twitch again, and she gives a short, almost imperceptible nod, as if testing whether i’ll respond.

  I raise one hand slowly, palm open, keeping my movements unthreatening. Then i give a single, deliberate nod back—mirroring hers.

  Her ears flick forward at the gesture, and though her posture stays cautious, i notice her tail’s slow sway pause for just a second, as if i’ve passed some small, silent test. She shifts slightly closer to the window, staying in the alley’s shadows, her eyes never breaking from yours.

  For a heartbeat, it feels like she’s about to say something… but instead, she leans back against the wall, arms loosely crossed, as if settling in to watch me. Not leaving this time, but not yet stepping into the light, either.

  I stay quiet, keeping my gaze steady but calm, letting the silence stretch without pressure. She studies me for a while longer, her ears twitching once in the cool night air.

  Then, softly—so softly i almost think i imagined it—she says one word.

  "Luna."

  *The sound hangs in the air between us, simple but weighted. I don’t move too quickly, don’t speak. I just give a slow, deliberate nod, letting your expression say what your voice doesn’t: Alright. I’ll call you that.

  Her tail sways once, slow and measured, before she pushes off from the wall. She takes a step back into the deeper shadows of the alley, eyes lingering on me for a moment longer. Then she disappears from sight, swallowed by the darkness as quietly as she came.

  You linger by the window for a few moments after she’s gone, eyes tracing the empty shadows where she stood. The faint scent of damp stone and night air still drifts in, but the alley is silent now.

  With a quiet exhale, you close the window, setting the latch into place. The room feels cooler somehow, calmer, though your mind is still turning over the brief exchange—her eyes, that single word, and the way she didn’t run this time.

  You slide back under the quilt, the faint weight of the coins in your pocket a small reassurance. Before long, the sound of distant city noises fades, and sleep takes you again.